


The Brave Knight

by CaptainnAustralia



Series: The Knight and the Damsel [1]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-06
Updated: 2011-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainnAustralia/pseuds/CaptainnAustralia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school AU for Bruce/Clint. This is part 1 of 2 of the Knight and the Damsel series, and if focused on Bruce more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Brave Knight

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Quantum Physics.”  

 _Ignore them. Just keep walking._

Bruce shouldered his back a little more forcefully, ducking his head and staring at holed shoes. How did he get holes in his shoes?  _Again?!_  His mother was going to kill him.

“Come on Banner! Go ahead, show us something else! Gonna sing us a song about your little quarks?”

 _Do not start sing_[Strange Charm](http://youtu.be/U0kXkWXSXRA?t=10s) _, do not start sing_ Strange Charm, _do not start sing_ Strange Charm _…_

 _Annnndddd too late. Great, way to go Bruce, now you have a stupid song about physics stuck in your head. You are the man._

“Watchya gonna do Brucey? Gonna sit us down and teach us the unified theory of your precious quarks?”

“There is no unified theory for quarks.”

 _Oh Bruce. You were doing so well until that._

He’d stopped walking and even  _turned around_  to engage them.

“Oh, oh, oh so smart with his physics and his science. Bechya he thinks he’s smarter than us because of it too!”

“I  _am_  smarter then you.”

 _Not anymore, you IDIOT._

Bruce’s entire body stiffed and he stumbled backwards, slow but steady steps designed to take him far, far away.

“What’d you just say to me?”

 _This would be a REALLY good time for you to start walking properly Bruce. Like now. Running might be a good option._

“He just said he was smarter than us!”

“Bechya think we’re idiots, dontcha Brucey.”

“Oi! Brucey here called us idiots!”

“Get him!”

 _And now you’re running. God, was your bag always this heavy Bruce? Oh, right, you grabbed that god damn book, didn’t you?_

 _You’re a fucking idiot Bruce._

 _You really are._

God how he ran. There were three of them bolting after him. They were bagless, because they didn’t give two cents about their homework or other things of a similar matter, so they had an advantage there.

Why. Why had he even BOTHERED. But he couldn’t help himself.

When the news broke about the hadron-collider in Switzerland making particles go faster than the speed of light… well, Bruce was excited. This changed the ENTIRE fabric of their reality and damn it, there had to be someone outside the internet who cared about this like he did.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have talked about it with Mr. Richards quiet so loudly. But Reed Richards was way more than just a high school science teacher. He was way over qualified. He  _knew_  about this stuff.

They’d been discussing it in the courtyard and Bruce had a tendency to get a little over excited when it came to science things like this. In his defence, Mr. Richards was just as excited, pulling lists of implications of this new information from the back of his super freaky memory bank.

These stupid dingbats had overheard their conversation and pretended to be interested in an effort to mock Bruce and Mr. Richards had never been very good with the social interactions of his students, so he mistook their derisive questions for genuine interest.  

And now he was paying for caring about what was possibly the most important discovery in modern science.

 _Get around the corner. Just get around that corner and maybe you can lose them._

There was a great screeching noise and he was forced to stumble to a stop as something big, black and shiny braked before him.

“GET ON.”

He didn’t second guess it. He didn’t pause to think that  _maybe_  this was a bad idea because really, he had no idea who was under that helmet.

He just jumped on the bike, wrapping firm arms around his saviour’s waist and burying his head into the leather clad shoulder. The bike gunned and Bruce was clinging with everything he had, not even daring to move in the slightest, just in case his foot slipped and hit something important. The ride didn’t last long; it was barely long enough for Bruce’s mind to scoop up the thoughts of  _Holy shit, you’re on a motorcycle_.

The bike had stopped for all of three seconds before he was off it, stumbling to the nearest wall. His chest uncomfortably tight, light someone had taken all the space and filled it with sand. He let his bag slip off his shoulders, a hand flying to his neck, the other curving around so he could see his watch, lips moving soundlessly as he counted out the beats.

God. He needed to calm down right now.

That pulse was way too fast.

“You alright dude? You’re looking a little pale.” Bruce held a hand up in front of him, his head bent.

 _Oh god._

 _You’re gonna be sick Bruce. Okay. Okay. It’s okay. Take a couple deep breaths. That’s it. Innnnn. And Ouuuuuuut. That’s better isn’t it?_

His back pressed against the brick wall, his head suddenly feeling light and fuzzy, his legs shaking as though they couldn’t hold him if they tried. He sunk down until he was sitting and let his head fall forward, between his knees.

“Okay, man, seriously,” the other boy said, crouching in front of him and pulling the helmet from his head, “you’re freaking me out.” Bruce sucked in a deep breath and admitted something that nobody outside his family, a few school officials and his doctor knew.

“Heart condition. Gotta calm the pulse. Otherwise heart attack. Death. Bad.” He said, trying to slow his breathing. There was always the pace maker, sewn under his skin, which would operate as a back-up if things got too bad, sending short, electrical pulses around his chest to keep his heart going until medical assistance arrived.

But he’d really like to avoid that.

“You have a heart condition?! I didn’t know you had a heart condition! How bad is it?!”

“What part of  _death_  wasn’t clear?” Bruce snapped, finally lifting his head.

 _Oh._

 _Oh man._

Clint Barton was staring back at him, his blue eyes popping wide with concern, his face furrowed in an anxious expression, his bottom lip caught between teeth. His hands were hovering out before him, like he could somehow help.

 _Damn._

“Sorry,” Bruce breathed after a second, “I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just… freaking out.” He admitted.

It had been a very long time since his heart-rate got that high. It was a combination of the running, the adrenaline and then jumping aback a motorcycle driven by someone who he didn’t know.

Only he  _did_  know Clint Barton. He went to school with him.

“Completely understandable.” Clint said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Bruce let his head fall back against the brick wall and he pressed his fingers back to his neck, counting again.

 _Better.  And you haven’t been sick. That’s a plus._

“You good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Bruce fought to keep his eyes from narrowing in suspicion at the boy who’d just saved him. He had no idea why Clint had just done that. Bruce was more than certain that he’d been on the receiving end of Clint’s little paper missiles on more than one occasion. And it wasn’t exactly like Clint could deny that he was aiming for him. Bruce had seen him targeting other people.

The boy had skill.

 _Stop ogling the fuck out of the boy and bloody thank him already, Banner, god, where is your mind today._

“Thanks for the, you know, save back there.” Bruce coughed.

“No problem. I wasn’t gonna sit around and watch you get pummelled. I thought I’d play the brave knight role in this little run away you had going.”

 _Man, this kid is insane._

“Brave knight? Do you even hear yourself speaking?”

“Nah, I mostly just talk to hear the sound of my own voice.”

He offered Bruce a hand and he just blinked at it stupidly for a minute.

“I’m not asking you to kiss it or anything, just helpin’ you up.”

 _You are an idiot. IDIOT. I-D-I-O-T._

Bruce grabbed at Clint’s hand and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. But Bruce, being Bruce swayed dangerously and staggered under the effort of being suddenly upright. He fell forward right onto Clint, the slightly taller boy only just managing to catch him and hold him up.

“Hey now.” Clint murmured, catching him.

It took Bruce a moment to recover, blinking uncertainly with a deer-caught-in-headlights look on his face. It was a full two minutes before he realized that he was standing uncomfortably close to Clint, who was seemed perfectly content to hold onto Bruce’s arms, ducking his head ever so slightly so that he could look Bruce in the eye.

“You okay in there bud?”

“I- uh, yeah, uh, thanks. Again.” Clint smiled at him and the silence between them grew.

“Uh… you can… let go of me now.”

“What if I don’t want to let go?” Clint murmured, that sly grin slipping back into place. And then Bruce’s mouth had gone all dry, his eyes popping wide and his heart jumping to his throat and a breath caught half way from being sucked in because of it.

 _Wait, what? You’re gay? When did this happen?! Don’t you think you should have told your brain that you were gay!?_

But Bruce WASN’T gay. He’s had a massive crush on Janet Van Dyne for years. He’d  _kissed_ girls. He’s never given guys a second glance, not when there was a pretty girl in the room to steal his eye. But Clint was standing there, heat radiating off him, with that  _god damn grin_ staring back at him. The way he said  _“What if I don’t want to let go?”_  like it was a challenge, daring Bruce to step away from him, the words cracking over him like hot water over cold glass.

 _Bruce what are you doing. You’re not gay. Step back, don’t lead him on. You don’t know this kid, he could be dangerous._

But Bruce couldn’t bring himself to step away, not even when Clint stepped a little closer, his hands shift from Bruce’s arms to slide around his waist, yanking him closer until they were pressed together. Bruce’s movements were automatic, his jumping to Clint’s hips like they belonged there.

 _Oh god, Bruce, stop this. Get out of there. Get your HANDS off the STRANGER and get out of here before he stabs you and takes all your money!_

But Clint was looking down at him, blue eyes imposing and soft, desperate and patient, longing and reserved - he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop it. Because somewhere, deep in his gut, he wanted it more than anything.

Then Clint was ducking his head, hovering just over Bruce. Got the heat he was giving off was  _suffocating_. Bruce could feel every tiny molecule of his breath as it fanned over his own lips, warming them, brushing over his cheeks like a caress.

 _Br-Bruce… what are you d-doing?! You can’t, he’s not your type, and you DON’T like men! A-and even if you do, this is a really bad place to start, I mean, come on, do you even KNOW this guy?!_

Clint was still hovering, waiting, giving Bruce every opportunity to step away, to tell him to stop and to cut him off. But all Bruce could do was stare back up at his, eyes wide and chest tight. Bruce felt a little bit like he was swimming in Clint’s eyes – the were endless pools of blue, that stretched for miles and ran so deep within him that Bruce felt like he was intruding on a private moment just but daring to meet them with his own.

Then the heavy lids were closing and pushing a little closer. Bruce hurried to close his own eyes, the lids only just fluttering to a close when Clint’s lips pressed softly against his own.

 _I take it back._

Clint’s lips were chapped slightly, cracked just a little, probably from riding the bike. But his bottom lip was a little more roughly, like it spent a lot of it’s time caught between his teeth.

  _I take it all back._

All thoughts of hesitation, of backing down, of pushing him away vanished from even the furthest reaches of Bruce’s mind. The tentative hands that rested on Clint’s hips became tight to pull him in.

 _Just. Don’t. Stop. This._

Clint pulled back for just a short moment, not even long enough for Bruce to flick his eyes open, before pressing back down at a slightly different angle. Bruce’s hand moved on its own accord, scaling up Clint’s body, palm flat against Clint’s chest, until is curled around the back of Clint’s neck. Clint’s lips parted on his and gave a silent, breathy moan – there was no sound, but the rush of warm air against him was enough to tell Bruce what was happening inside Clint’s head.

 _For fucks sake Bruce, for the first time all day, LISTEN TO ME and PUSH INTO THIS KISS. His lips are already parted!_

Well… fuck it.

Bruce used the grip on the back of Clint’s neck to pull him in again, their lips pressing together open now and that certainly improved things, Bruce’s hand sliding around to thread through Clint’s hair. There was more heat like this, heavy, hot breaths rolling directly into each other’s mouths. Clint’s hands tightened around his waist and they were  _really_ pressed together now.

Clint’s tongue darted out and ran along Bruce’s lip and it was a long moment before Bruce realised that this was like Clint’s method of  _knocking_. He was asking permission. Bruce had never been on the receiving end of this before. Hell, he couldn’t even remember if he’d being on the delivery side of that with some of the girls he’d been with.

He wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, his actions hesitant and unplanned, slipping his tongue forward just enough to meet Clint’s on his lip. Apparently this was the correct action, Clint’s tongue sliding in and,  _god_  if that wasn’t intense Bruce had no idea what was.

 _He’s not close enough_

They were pressed up against each other as close as they could possibly get, but still Bruce felt like it wasn’t enough, there was too much separating them. Clint drew Bruce’s tongue into his mouth and sucked lightly, chuckling when Bruce made a small involuntary noise in the back of his throat.

He pulled back after another minute and pressed his forehead against Bruce’s. Bruce just stood there unable to move, gasping at air.

 _Oh my god. Oh my god, you were just making out with Clint Barton, a guy you barely even know, in some random alley way, in New York City, and you don’t even dig men._

 _Bruce Banner you are one fucked up dude._

“That was pretty unexpected.” Clint breathed.

“I… I- you kissed me! How was it unexpected for YOU?!” Bruce gasped.

“You kissed back. You could have stepped away. Stopped me. I expected you to. Maybe even hit me.” Clint reached up to where Bruce’s hand was hanging loosely from the side of his head and took hold of his wrist, wrapping two fingers around it in a very odd way. And then Bruce realized – he was  _counting_.

“Gettin’ a little fast there kiddo.” Clint smirked.

 _Oh damn. Would it be totally weird of you to kiss him again? Cuz you should do that. Like now._

“I just got jumped. Give me a minute.”

“Wow, say it with class.” Clint was grinning down at him like he was honestly pleased at what had occurred in the past few minutes, Bruce’s brain already running haywire with excuses, apologies, defences and retorts.

But really he only wanted to know one thing.

“W-why? Why did you… kiss ME?” Clint tilted his head to the side slightly, frowning at him as if the answer should be obvious. When Bruce continued to look confused, Clint had grinned and leaned in again.

“Cuz. I was playing the brave knight,” he said and Bruce could feel him smiling, just the brush of it on his own lips when Clint spoke.

“And every knight deserves a kiss from his damsel in distress.”

Bruce had several very witty and wonderfully sarcastic retorts to that comment.

He really did.

Clint’s lips just kept them locked away until his mind was so full with buzzing that he just couldn’t remember what they were.

 _You have the weirdest life Bruce._


End file.
